


Spread Your Wings

by Megalohdon



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Sadstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-25
Updated: 2012-03-25
Packaged: 2017-11-02 12:04:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/368786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megalohdon/pseuds/Megalohdon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Jake English, and something is wrong. The apartment is eerie, dark and silent save from the noises Dirk and you make. Which, as of late, hasn’t been much. He’s upset about something, but won’t talk to you about it. You had been gone for a week, only to return home to some kind of tragedy stricken home. You didn’t understand, and upon your arrival you tried to question him about it, but you were promptly ignored and given the cold shoulder. Was he upset about your trip? It wasn’t as if you could prevent business trips from transpiring, and he knew that. He hadn’t had a problem before with them. Maybe he assumed you were unfaithful, though you doubted that because you both knew you weren’t.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spread Your Wings

Your name is Jake English, and something is wrong. The apartment is eerie, dark and silent save from the noises Dirk and you make. Which, as of late, hasn’t been much. He’s upset about something, but won’t talk to you about it. You had been gone for a week, only to return home to some kind of tragedy stricken home. You didn’t understand, and upon your arrival you tried to question him about it, but you were promptly ignored and given the cold shoulder. Was he upset about your trip? It wasn’t as if you could prevent business trips from transpiring, and he knew that. He hadn’t had a problem before with them. Maybe he assumed you were unfaithful, though you doubted that because you both knew you weren’t.

The television is on, a few blues and purples reflecting off the surfaces of the darkened living room. He’s on the couch; you’re sitting in the floor in front of him, between his legs, head idly resting on his knee with your eyes fixated on the screen. It’s funny how he doesn’t care how long you have had your head there, how he hasn’t shaken you off or played with your hair. You don’t care though, you suppose this is better than fighting, at least he hasn’t banished you from the bedroom, or kicked you out completely.

He shifts behind you and you move, crawling out of the way as he gets up and strolls off to the bathroom. You sigh, taking a seat on the opposite end of the couch and flip through the channels, settling on National Geographic before placing the remote back. You don’t really notice his return, just that he’s quite a bit surprised that you changed the channel. You can feel his eyes burrow holes through your skull as he stares in disbelief at you. You don’t understand, it wasn’t like he liked what he had on anyways. You offer up and apologetic shrug and he can only sigh, shaking his head before settling down a bit. He’s not bothering to change the station anymore.

It’s awkward at night, having him curled up in a tight ball, not allowing you entrance to his personal problems. He’s hiding them in the open, behind an emotional fort that makes Sumter look bad. You lay on your side, uncovered because you don’t care. He’s hogging it all anyways. He falls asleep before you bother to close your eyes. You scoot toward him, arm slipping around his waist, head nestled behind his as you curl up with him. Every fort needs a general, and every general needs a soldier willing to fight for him.

He shifts against you, but doesn’t push you away. He never does, but you’re the only one initiating any sort of contact. At least he is willing to allow that much from you. Your glasses find their way beside his shades, a kiss places itself on his cheek and you, with your face buried in soft honey locks, drift away much better than here.

It’s been another week, and he still won’t talk to you. He hasn’t kicked you out, and you care far too much about him to leave willingly. You don’t want it to resort to him having to request your departure, but that would be the one case you would at least be willing to contemplate leaving. If it’s what he wants, you won’t deny him the right to his apartment. Your island is still there, waiting for you whenever you decide to come home. If you ever did, that is.

You two used the island as a nice vacation home, though even if it is a good bit larger than the apartment, Dirk refused to live anywhere away from civilization. You could understand that, though. Even with your brief time here in Texas, you could see the fast difference in a world with people, and a world with pumpkins and white, blood lusting beasts that seemed to eat your bullets rather than take them. Aside those little faerie bulls, the beasts.

He’s talking to Roxy on his computer. You caught a glimpse of the conversation as you passed by, though you really did feel bad for reading it. He had been saying something about ‘not being able to handle this’ and ‘what should I do’. She wasn’t much help, saying she ‘was here for you’ and ‘it was hard on us all’. Perhaps whatever it was you did was a bit more severe than you had originally thought.

You contemplate getting on pesterchum to talk with Jane, to see if she knows anything, but decide against it. You know she would be entitled to tell Roxy, and she in turn would tell Dirk. And, of course, there wasn’t anything fun to come out of that. So you shut yourself in your room, noting that he looks back when he hears the door open. At least you could rest, take a nap and allow him to talk things out with a true friend.

Your pride was too large to ever admit how much it killed you that he wouldn’t speak to you. Touch you, interact with you, bloody look at you, even. You weren’t just a lover, you were a friend. His best friend, actually. Well you assumed you were. But his constant ignoring was making you think otherwise. You just put on a smile, curled up on his side of the bed in the covers and drifted off. Maybe somewhere your mind created you would be able to speak with him again.

He’s shut himself up in his room now, you, sitting outside the door, don’t bother going in. You aren’t sure, because it wasn’t something you had ever truly heard (aside from the one time he spoke of his brother, but that was years ago), but you believe he’s crying. Perhaps the stress of your relationship has become too much for him. It’s clearly enough for him to lock himself away from you, not even bother to reach out for help.

After what you assume has been ten minutes he emerges, red eyed and cheeks tear streaked. The fridge is in his line of fire, being his target that he had come out for. He grabs a beer, twists the cap off, and takes a large swig. You want to say something, but it’s no use. You push yourself up and lean against the counter, eyes on his pair, orange irises locked on your hands.

Eye contact appears to be lost, but what could you expect? Some small form of sympathy to his cold hearted actions? You loved him, but he was a Strider. He wasn’t going to give up easily. And you were an English, you weren’t apologizing for something you had no clue that you did. Or what it was, even. For all you cared, he could continue this whole charade as long as he wants. You’d leave eventually; you couldn’t stay with a lover whom ignored you. It killed you to have to think about that, but you needed options that Dirk wasn’t offering you.

You needed him to snap out of this trance he seemed to be in and talk to you. You needed him to cup your face and whisper ‘I’m sorry’ before he kisses you softly. You needed him to pull you close, hold you tight and, with his head buried in the crook of your neck, never let you go. You needed him to tell you ‘I love you’, and prove it. You needed him to make love to you, not ravage you. Really, all you needed was him.

It’s becoming clear now, as you both grab your jackets, and shoes, slipping into them and heading out to the car, that something is wrong. More wrong than what was already off about everything. There was sort of a dark, grey cloud looming over dirk as he got into the car, you slipping into the passenger side and buckling in. He doesn’t put the keys in just yet, just stares at the steering wheel. He’s still silent, but there is so much he wants to say, and you know it. You don’t push it, remaining quiet as he turns on the car and pulls out of the lot.

From where you are in town, it appears he’s headed towards a flower shop. You can’t understand why he would order them, because he knows you have awful allergies. You really hope that, all this time, he hadn’t of cheated and had a guilty conscious compared to you having done something wrong. You would much rather be in blame than him taking the blame for being unfaithful. Your stomach churns uncomfortably thinking about it.

He pulls into the shop, parking and turning off the car before pulling some receipt or order form from his pocket. He reads over it once more before getting out and going inside. You decide it’s probably best to stay in the car. If the flowers are for you, you certainly don’t want to ruin anything by seeing them before he wanted to hand them to you. It ruined the whole effect of ‘I’m sorry, I love you’ flowers.

He comes out with a bouquet of daises. Ironic, you think, but accept it. You don’t really mind what kind of flowers they are, as long as everything between you two are alright. He seems tense though, as he slips into the car. His knuckles are white, and you note his grip on the flowers is rather tight. He’s biting his lip and shaking his head, placing the flowers in your lap before turning the car on to continue the adventure.

Dirk is still remaining silent, not speaking to you as you look at the daises in your lap. Maybe this is his own way of apologizing? You two never really fought, not like this, and definitely not to this magnitude. It was a first. You were taking it as the young boy with a crush on his best friend. She is innocently unaware of his feelings, though one afternoon on the playground, he kisses her cheek and turns away, silent, puffy face and red cheeked. He was embarrassed, sure, but he did what he wanted the most. Perhaps it applied here too? He gave you flowers and turned away and wouldn’t speak? You’d like to think that was the case, but you have a sick feeling this isn’t over.

The next stop catches you by surprise, and honestly you are a bit put off by his choice of location. But perhaps this is where the problem was happening? Late grief over his brother? He pulls into the cemetery and parks, leaning forward enough to let his forehead rest against the steering wheel. He sighs, taking the flowers from your lap and exits the car. You decide it’s best to follow him this time, assuming if he is grieving he will need you, if he wants you or not.

You actually take a moment to stop and remember if the two of you ever visited Dave’s grave before. You don’t recall ever being here aside from now, so you can’t really see how you would have. So why the sudden change of heart, Strider? You jog back up behind him to catch up, keeping close eye on the headstones around you and distinguishing foliage.

You walk for what you assume is nearly ten minutes before he finds where he needs to be. You take note of the drive through the whole cemetery and question why you two were walking, but assume that, perhaps, he was mulling over what to say to his dearly departed brother. You can’t say that, if given the chance to finally grieve over a loved one, that you wouldn’t contemplate what you would say to them. You don’t really mind the walk either, it’s a nice little hike, you think.

He’s crying again, but you give him space, standing back with your eyes to the ground. You can see him bend down to place the flowers on top, standing up and placing a hand on the top of the headstone. You can see his arm is shaking, hand gripping tightly as he tries not to break down right there. He opens and shuts his mouth a few times but nothing comes out aside from a few exasperated breaths. You clench your own hand, eyes sliding shut so you don’t have to see him at his worst.

“I… Dammit I just can’t believe it…” He begins, his voice sweet to your ears and you force away a smile. This wasn’t the time for happiness, or much of anything aside from grief and regret, “You left me here, alone. To fend for myself when you damn well knew I couldn’t live without you…. I miss you… So much, and it’s not even fair… You were so young… Too young. I’m sorry I didn’t visit sooner but… it takes time for wounds to heal, you know? Not that this one is healing anytime soon. But I needed to come. I had to.

It’s just that I can’t believe that you’re gone… And now that you are, well, I begin to question myself as a person and how I treated you. Was I good enough… Were you happy? Could I have made it better? Were we the closest we could have been? Where were we going together in our lives… There’s a lot of regret in me, I’ll admit that. There’s a lot of regret.

I think I’m going to move… The apartment just doesn’t feel right anymore… It’s emptier, colder. I can’t be there anymore…. But I think it’s too soon. I need to stay for a while, because it was our place. No one else’s, ours… Shit and it hasn’t even been that long… Sorry, I just… I don’t see why you had to die. Why you lost your life…. It’s selfish and moronic of me, but… Well I’d think we both know I don’t give two shits… I just really… Really wasn’t you back. I love you… So much and I’m so sorry I couldn’t be a better person… I’m uh… I’ve got to go but I’ll uh, make a better effort to see you alright? Bye.”

His arm drops to his side and he backs up, eyes staring at the head stone while a hand wiped away the tears. His breath was shaky and his voice was quiet, but he said what he needed to say, which was all you wanted for him, really. In a flash he does an about face and heads back towards the car, your eyes following him but your body refuses to follow. No, you two needed to talk about this.

“Dirk, wait, please… Talk to me…” He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t turn around and you close your eyes. Your stomach drops and twists and you’re sure you’re going to be sick. You can feel the puzzle pieces start to place themselves together and you shake your head ‘no.’ This wasn’t happening, you were just paranoid. You were very much okay.

You glance behind you at the tombstone to make sure, though you know it’s Dave’s, and clear your conscious. Instead you fall to your knees, body shaking violently as you scream out, sobbing and clawing at the fresh grass laid down. No, that wasn’t right, this was some horrible, horrible prank, “Dirk! This isn’t funny! Dammit all!” You’re doubled over, knees drawn to your chest and elbows tucked in, head resting on clasped hands. You don’t move. You don’t follow him. You know how to get home.

Your name is Jake English, and you have earned your wings.

**Author's Note:**

> Part of my Angelstuck AU. I apologize for whom it had to be who passed but that was how things worked out. if you are interested in more from the AU just inform me.


End file.
